Monday, July 20, 2015

Often as I'm drifting off to sleep, my head writes things. Sometimes they're coherent and I like the language, so I struggle out of my comfy half sleep and write them down.

I just one I filed away the other week. I do remember writing it, but I have no idea what the larger idea was, or what earthly use it will ever be to me.

So I'll just stick it here as written.

This is why I don't write long form work...

I lay in my little bed in the cottage and listened to the
arythmic bump and scrape and shuffle of the boat bobbing against the dock.
Gradually the impact grew more rhythmic, and when it was accompanied by a soft
groan I realised it had been assimilated into the sound of my sister having sex
in the room next door.

I listened dispassionately. Really, I thought, I’m too young
to be exposed to this sort of thing.

That wasn’t actually true. I was of an age to start finding
out. My friend Cally had recently thrown herself into sex with an exuberant
energy, her enthusiasm and willingness to learn making up for her inexperience.
She shared her newfound knowledge with me in whispered snatches and I reacted
appropriately, smiled and filed it away in some later to be opened box in my
mind.

I couldn’t imagine being bothered. Not with Cally’s smoke
and cider scented Darren or the grimy construction workers who filed into the
pub on Thursday and Friday evenings, cement dust greying the rough lines on
their fingers.

Who might this ingenue teen find to explore her desire with? A billionaire dom? A vampire? Some class of lesbian? I've a horrible feeling it might have been her sister's boyfriend, now that I think about it, but I can't remember why. Hmm.